Phat Duck in The Pastry Department

Transition

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Thu, 08 Feb 2007 17:21:00 +0000

I come here to you, my small but faithful readership to bid adieu.

I am leaving Phat Duck, my humble little blog behind. Just nearing it's second birthday, this blog has been a documentation of my growth. Started to share with friends and family a journey I took to England, the first few months opened my window into The Fat Duck kitchen for you. While filling a 2 month stage, I wrote, photographed, and shared the amazing education I was receiving at a kitchen that is leading the culinary world right now. Many of you joined me after bits of the blog were published in the London Guardian. I'll never forget that day, when Heston walked up to me with a look of mischief and said, "I read your diary."

Upon my return to the states, the blog began to follow me through the ins and outs of becoming a pastry chef. I took my first "chef" job running the pastry department (of 1, that's I was the department) at Eva, a small neighborhood restaurant in Seattle. Using their strong beliefs in organics, seasonality, and local producers, I developed the skills needed to manage a dessert menu. You'll see in my posts from beginning to the end a progression in not only the desserts, but the format in which I wrote about them. Finding my niche in thoughtful essays with recipes and photographs, it seems I have just settled into a format the readers could count on, and here I go running out the door.

But don't fret just yet. You can come with me!

I will now be co-writing Tasting Menu with Hillel Cooperman. We met years ago when I worked at Lampreia. I spent my time in the kitchen, him at the table. But his passion for food brought him to the back of the house time and time again. When Hillel and his friends applied their talents to a menu Scott Carsberg had created to celebrate apples, an amazing digital cookbook was produced. And I got to know Hillel and the people of Tasting Menu.

Since then a mutual respect has grown, and it's become clear that our complimentary voices will be best suited writing together. Tasting Menu will now give it's readers perspective from behind the plate, and behind the stove.

I am also taking yet another career step into the kitchen at The Rainer Club. Looking to fill some holes in my education, I will be working with banquet production/catering, butchery and charcuterie, then finally cooking on the hot line in one of the most developmentally supportive, highly professional high end kitchens I have encountered.

Expect to see some of the dessert writing Phat Duck is famous for, insight into the industry, and a bit about the work I do at The Ranier Club.

So to Tasting Menu we go, just a click away........

Rugelach

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Mon, 29 Jan 2007 22:35:00 +0000

As a young school girl, growing up in a quiet town north of Seattle, I was mostly surrounded by other children like me. That is to say, white. Always having been a blue collar town driven by paper mills and an airplane factory, Everett was not a hot bed of racial diversity. But those children of other cultures that did mix into our classrooms were celebrated. They shared with us foods, traditions, art, song and dance from their culture, and I sat with glittering wide eyes, awed by the differences their lives held from mine. My eight year old heart wished with all I had to have a heritage like they did.

Sure, my mom's family holds dear the Irish in them, come via Newfoundland about 7 generations ago. My strongest tie being weak, the faint Irish in my past mixed with other northern European blood lines to make me something of a mutt. While as an adult I have learned that the mutt in me is a pure bred American, the child in me still glitters at bits of heritage from cultures and histories that will never be mine.

When I was challenged by my Jewish pantry cook, Cara, to make a dessert celebrating her own heritage, the child in me took it to heart. In choosing Rugelach, an cookie of Ashkenazi Jewish tradition I made it with respect to the generational ties it holds. A simple flaky pastry of cream cheese, butter, and flour creates a rolled shell holding a filling traditionally made with currants, cinnamon, and sugar. (Or so I am told by my pantry cook)

Sounding much too like a cookie version of cinnamon rolls to resist, I was quick to deviate a bit from a tradition I had only just adopted. Dressing them much the way I dress my buns, the rugelach's filling was gussied up, first adding the zest of an orange to the cinnamon sugar. The raisin hater I once was long ago banished the seedy pellets from my cinnamon rolls, opting instead for chopped bittersweet chocolate and pecans. I since may have learned to enjoy a nice plump raisin here and there, but because my motivation to perfect these cookies came from an earlier version of myself, I thought I could certainly hold fast to my raisin swap, and fill my rugelach with chocolate and pecans too.

The dough is rolled out in a 12 inch disk, egg washed, and covered in a thin layer of the filling ingredients, cinnamon sugar first. Looking much like a pizza, the "pie" is cut in 16 equally sized wedges, and rolled up fat end first to make little crescent rolls. The tops are egg washed and sprinkled with what I call disco sugar. The addition of the large granule sugar on top adds not only an impressive sparkle, but very nice crunch to the texture of the flaky cookie. If you don't opt for the disco sugar, regular sugar, or even just egg wash will do just fine.

Rugelach

for the dough

1 cup cream cheese, cold
1 cup butter, cold
2 cups flour
1/2 tsp salt
2 tbsp sugar

1. Cut the butter and cream cheese into inch pieces. Paddle them in the bowl of a kitchen aid on medium speed until they are well combined.

2. Scrape down the sides of the bowl and add the sugar and salt. Mix until combined and scrape down the sides of the bowl again.

3. Add the flour and mix on low until the flour is no longer visible and the dough comes together into a large curd, lumpy mass.

Alternately...(and I often alternate to this) Combine the flour, salt, and sugar in the work bowl of a food processor. Add the butter and cream cheese and pulse 15 to 20 times, or until the dough comes together into a large curd, lumpy mass.

3. Turn the dough out onto a floured surface and separate the dough into 4 equally sized balls. Press the balls into disks, wrap with plastic, and chill in the refrigerator for at least 1 hour. The dough can be stored in the fridge for up to 3 days, or a month in the freezer.

for the filling

1 cup sugar
2 tsp cinnamon
zest of 1 orange
4 oz chopped bittersweet chocolate (roughly half a cup)
1/2 cup chopped pecans

1. In a bowl combine the sugar and cinnamon evenly. Zest the orange directly over the bowl of cinnamon sugar to capture all of the oils being released by zesting. When the entire orange is zested, mix it into the sugar with your fingers, breaking it up as much as possible.

2. Chop the pecans and chocolate fairly small. Large chunks will either fall from the cookie when it is rolled, or break through the dough.

Assembly

Preheat the oven to 350
Have ready sheet pans lined with parchment or sillpats. Sugar leaks from the cookies during the baking process, making it very hard to remove from unlined pans.

Have ready Egg wash (one egg beaten well with 1 tbsp water) and a pastry brush to apply it
Disco sugar (large granule decorators sugar)

1. Roll the dough into a 12 inch circle. Apply a light coat of egg wash to the entire face of the dough.

2. Sprinkle 1/4 of the cinnamon sugar to the dough and spread evenly with your hand.

3. Sprinkle 1/4 of the chopped pecans and chocolate over the cinnamon sugar leaving a 2 inch circle in the center void of large chunks.

4. Cut the circle in 16 even wedges and pull them apart. Starting with the fat end of 1 wedge, roll the cookie up. Dip it in egg wash, place it on the lined cookie sheet, and sprinkle it with a bit of disco sugar. Repeat with the remaining wedges.

5. Bake the cookies at 350 for 25 to 30 minutes, until the tops are a deep golden brown and the bottoms are clearly done. If under baked, the dough will not be flaky and the center will be uncooked.

An interlude

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Thu, 04 Jan 2007 05:53:00 +0000

If you have noticed a change in the frequency of posting lately, then to you I apologize. It's not my lack of passion that has changed, nor my desire to tell you all about it. The amount of desserts I have produced this month is extreme, some refinements of recipes in my book, some new additions that are worth keeping around. Many classes taught, cookies made, and menu items developed.

But along side my own exciting developements, I have been struggling every day along side my mother. Just a month past her 55th birthday, she is coming to the end of a 4 year battle with a very agressive and debilitating form of Parkinsons desiese called striato-nigral degeneration. She suffered through the kind of degeneration that took something from her every month. From fine motor skills, to balance, walking, talking, swallowing, and finally breathing, she held her head up high as all these human qualities slipped away from her.

I have been by her side managing her care for the last 2 years, day in, day out. It's been nothing but a blessing to have spent so much time with her and been able to give back as much of me as she needed. As her lungs weaken and struggle to take in oxygen and expel carbon dioxide, my sisters and I are spending as much time with her as we can, and the rest with eachother.

Forgive the lapse in posting, bear the month or more it takes to for my fingers to grow nimble and my mind to warm up to writing. And if you can, send your prayers for my mother, Denise, who has been so brave in the face of such a terrible desiese.

Chocolate Pudding

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Mon, 18 Dec 2006 21:12:00 +0000

Pudding is a word you are no doubt familiar with, and if you are like most of us out there, love the thought of. But pudding can that mean many different things, often defined by a preceding description (bread pudding, yorkshire pudding) and can vary depending on what continent (or island) you are standing on. Encompassing the entirety of the dessert course in the UK, the broad term pudding has a much more specific meaning here. When an American cook is looking for a pudding recipe, they want to make something smooth, creamy, cooked with milk, eggs, and starch and most often tasting of a singular flavor. Something so delicate in it's richness that must be spooned from a cup.

When Jell-o introduced it's boxed pudding mixes at modest prices, some so convenient they needed no cooking, pudding became a staple in day to day American cuisine. Whether it was made in your home of not, you saw it was served in the school cafeteria, sitting next to you in your best friends sack lunch, or served as an after school snack at your neighbors.

I'll admit, I am part of a generation that knew only that pudding started in a box. My mom liked foods that offered convenience, as do many parents who spend most of the day chasing around 3 very active children. It's no crime to take advantage of shortcuts in the kitchen when your energy is focused elsewhere. Life is one big balancing act, and pudding from a box helped my mom keep hers level.

This offered no preparation for me, however, leading my life as a pastry chef. I love having a bit of pudding on my menu. Just a few bites served in a cute little dish aside a dessert, a nice alternative to plating everything with an ice cream. Not only a luxurious way to present a flavor, pudding is received by more than the palate. Pudding triggers nostalgia, adding a tiny emotional response of childlike joy to the dish.

While putting a dessert that is so well received on a plate seems easy, it's challenge is in it's simplicity. While our nostalgic memories of pudding prepare us to enjoy the dessert on many levels, our adult palates will be disappointed by the bland and unexciting flavors of the puddings we ate as children. In presenting a pudding, it has to taste better than the child in us remembers.

Working with a method from an decidedly unamerican pastry chef, I have a pudding on my menu that I am confident accomplishes all it has set out to do. Rather than make a simple ganache by pouring hot cream over chocolate, Pierre Herme pours a hot custard over chocolate for a filling in his cakes. By using the same concept my pudding was created. A hot custard flavored with brandy is poured over bittersweet chocolate and poured in individual dishes. When left to set up, a thin skin is formed. While this skin was eschewed by many, I see it as a defining quality of pudding. Removing the skin is like taking the crust off a bread, or the rind off Brie.

At the restaurant the pudding is made in large batches and used bit by bit to fill dishes, so no skin is served. But when making this pudding at home I delight in eating the tender skin first.

Chocolate Pudding

1 lb bittersweet chocolate
2 cups cream
2 1/2 cups whole milk
2 tbsp brandy
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/2 tsp kosher salt
1/2 cup sugar
10 egg yolks

1. Chop the chocolate finely and place in a bowl large enough to hold all the ingredients.

2. In a medium sized, heavy bottom saucepan, combine the cream, milk, brandy, vanilla, and salt and scald. Whisk the yolks and sugar together until they lighten a bit in color, about 1 minute. Temper the hot cream into the yolks and return to the stove top.

3. Cook the custard over medium heat, stirring constantly, until the mixture thickens and coats the back of a spoon.

4. Strain the hot custard into a pitcher or bowl. Ladle 1/4 of the hot custard over the chopped chocolate. Slowly stir the chocolate until the custard has been stirred in completely and the chocolate looks glossy. Repeat adding the custard to the chocolate in 2 more batches, stirring slowly between additions until all the custard has mixed in and the chocolate looks glossy.

5. Pour the pudding into individual dishes, or one large dish and chill until set, about 2 hours for the small cups, or 4 to 6 for the large. I have also used this as a chocolate cream pie filling.

Sweet Honey, Sour Cherries

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Sun, 26 Nov 2006 20:25:00 +0000

A frozen dessert hardly seems the way to finish a warm, cozy winter meal. Never the less, a wildflower honey semifreddo sits on my menu. Perhaps it's the "semi" that secures this cold dessert, a perpetual state this city suffers through all winter; Never frozen solid, but always cold.

What this dessert lacks in temperate warmth, it makes up for in richness. Honey, cooked with the smoky Madagascar vanilla bean and rich egg yolks, is folded into softly whipped cream before being moved to the freezer. Because of the invert sugars in honey, the dessert never freezes completely. Always cold, but never frozen solid.

The recipe for the honey semifreddo was introduced to this blog on a sunnier day. Earlier this year, when the summer sun had yet to grow hot, the recipe was given as a perfect foil to summers abundant fruits. Named "frozen wildflower honey mousse" this dessert was covered with a scattering of fresh berries or compote.

This month the dessert is dressed for colder days, with a thick coat made from sour cherry compote, warmly layered with a balsamic drizzle. Appropriately big flavors to hold our rich honey dessert to the season.

This compote was developed first for a goat cheese-cheesecake, but has found many homes since it's introduction into my recipe book. It's tart intensity lets it sit aside rich creamy desserts, perfect for a scoop of vanilla ice cream. If you are interested in recreating the entire dessert, you can purchase a nice, thick aged balsamic to drip around the edges, or take a cup of balsamic vinegar and simmer it with 1/4 cup of sugar until it begins to thicken a bit and streak the pan when swirled. When it cools you will have a nice balsamic syrup.

Sour Cherry Compote

3 cups dried sour cherries
2 cups water
1/4 cup balsamic vinegar
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 cup amaretto
2 tbsp cornstarch

1. Place the dried cherries in a sauce pan and cover with the water, balsamic vinegar, and sugar. Bring the mixture to a boil, stirring to dissolve the sugar. When the mixture boils, reduce to a simmer and cook for half an hour. The cherries should plump up, absorbing much of the liquid. Remove from heat temporarily.

2. Whisk the amaretto and cornstarch together until all lumps of starch are dissolved and the slurry is even. Slowly add the slurry to the hot cherries, stirring constantly to avoid the starch from clumping.

3. When all the starch has been added, return the compote to a medium heat. Cook, stirring constantly until the mixture begins to bubble and the starches thicken and become translucent. When your compote has thickened, remove from heat and transfer to a bowl to cool.

4. Let the mixture cool at room temperature. Store the compote at room temperature for up to 3 days.

Lemon Shortbread

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Mon, 13 Nov 2006 18:31:00 +0000

As we trudge through grey of the Seattle days, growing ever shorter, the nip in the misty air drives us inside towards comfort. Rushing for the warmth of our homes, damp layers are peeled off and traded for thick rich fabrics, layered generously with less concern for outward appearances than inner satisfaction. A favorite sweater pilled beyond repair, a much loved pair of sweat pants that should have been replaced last year, thick wool socks asymmetrical and lumpy but made by a friend with love; we are not only reaching for comfort, but for the familiar.

Wrapped thick and nested inside, preparing for a long winters hibernation from the wet, cold, daunting grey that is Seattle's winter, mother nature sends us a surprise. The clouds break, the rain stops, and through our squinted eyes, we see the sun. For a moment, the skies gleam with azure joy and the sunlight spills on the lush foliage kept evergreen by our 8 months of drip. Eyes quickly accustomed to the extra light excite at the world brightened by a rare sunny day.

The flavors of the season, a reflection of our desire to comfort ourselves, are rich, subtle, warm, and familiar. Meals created this season satisfy our mood by nature as much as by design, the seasons offerings as much a reflection of these qualities as our own desires. From the muddy soil, we are pulling hearty greens, subtle potatoes, and rich squashes. But beside these cold weather gems, slowly filling the produce section in shops is another of mother natures surprises. A bright ray of light from places sunnier than Seattle, citrus is now coming into season.

Bright orbs of color, this tart flavor brightens the comfortable cuisine we are layering ourselves with, refreshing our palates and enlivening our moods. Grapefruits, mandarins, Meyer lemons, limes, blood oranges, and kumquats, the first 4 colors of the rainbow paint winter's cuisine with exciting flavor. Like a sunbeam breaking through the clouds, I delight in welcoming citrus's return.

To begin my celebration of citrus, I am filling a cup with a rich lemon cream mousse. Blanketed in a huckleberry coulis, this intense mousse is served with a crumbly lemon shortbread. The shortbread is baked twice, much like a biscotti, to achieve a truly crumble-and-melt in your mouth quality, and packs a nice clean citrus flavor. It stores well in an airtight container and makes a welcome gift for the holidays.

Note, the butters texture and temperature are vital the outcome of the dough. It should be room temperature, soft, and pliable, but not shiny, runny, greasy, or squishy. Your finger should feel some resistance when pressing into it.

Lemon Shortbread

1 cup butter, room temp
2/3 cup powdered sugar
zest of 1 lemon
2 tsp lemon juice
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 1/2 tsp kosher salt
2 cups flour
1/8 tsp baking soda

Prepare a 8 by 8 inch square pan lined with parchment
Preheat the oven to 350

1. With the paddle attachment, cream the butter on a medium speed until it is of an even consistency. Scrape down the sides of the bowl and sift the powdered sugar over the butter. Mix the sugar and butter together until they are even and smooth, no more than minute.

2. Scrape the bowl well, and add the lemon zest, lemon, and vanilla. Mix until the wet ingredients are a smooth even mass.

3. Sift together the salt, flour, and baking soda. Add half this mixture to the dough and mix on low until mostly incorporated but still dry. Add the remaining half and mix on low until the flour has dissolved and the dough looks like large, very moist curds.

4. Turn the dough out onto a floured counter and finish the mixing process by gently kneading the dough. When the dough is even, press it into the prepared 8 by 8 inch pan and bake at 350 for 25 minutes.

5. After 25 minutes, remove the shortbread from the oven and let it cool for 15 minutes. Turn the oven down to 325 degrees. When the shortbread has cooled to a handling temperature, but not too much, invert the cookie onto a cutting board. Trim the edges from the shortbread, and cut the shortbread into even sized squares. Transfer the squares to a cookie sheet and bake in the 325 degree oven for another 20 to 30 minutes. The cookies should begin to turn golden, but remain fairly blond, and feel set and dry. If you are unsure, break a cookie open and check to see if the center is baked. To achieve a truly crumbly texture, the cookie must be baked through completely.

Pumpkin Cream Chiffon

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Sat, 04 Nov 2006 07:15:00 +0000

Nary a soul can pass the autumn season without one taste of pumpkin. A fixture at the thanksgiving table, pumpkin pie assumes the holiday ideal. Baked into cakes and muffins, mixed into ice cream, filling ravioli, thick in soups, this orange gourd can be tasted anywhere and everywhere.

The quintessential autumn flavor, my November menu would not be complete without one dish centered around pumpkin. At Eva, a pumpkin cream chiffon is served on a chocolate crust along side cinnamon whipped cream and hazelnut praline. I call it a "cream chiffon" because I removed the airy, light egg-white meringue that is traditionally used to lighten a chiffon and replaced it with whipped cream. The richness of the cream tempered the slight bitterness of the pumpkin better than the egg whites, creating a more indulgent version of this light dessert.

In a recent post I boasted that Bay makes a fantastic companion for Pumpkin. This said, I have spiced my pumpkin dessert with a classic combination of cinnamon and ginger. Not only is this more aproachable for the massive hordes of diners coming in for 25 for 25, but it has allowed me to pair the pumpkin chiffon with a chocolate crust. Pumpkin and chocolate is a delicious flavor combination that I don't often see or get an excuse to use.

Now I have a confession to make. My pumpkin dessert has a secret ingredient. No it's not cool-whip, or a package of vanilla pudding mix, or anything that is better left a secret. The secret is the pumpkin. It's not pumpkin that I use in my pumpkin dessert. I use a squash called the Long Island Cheese Wheel. The pale dusty skin of this Cinderella shaped squash surrounds a denser, creamier mild flesh. I haven't seen it available at a grocery store, but have seen it lurking under piles of brighter colored squashes at the farmers market.

Whether I choose this squash, or a sugar pie pumpkin, I will follow a few extra steps to ensure a thick, dense puree. I might roast the pumpkin before pureeing, which allows for evaporation of much of the excess water. This also deepens the flavor by caramelizing some of the sugars on the surface of the squash. If I am in the mood for a simpler flavor, I will poach the squash in boiling water until tender, puree the pumpkin, and freeze it. Upon defrosting I will strain the puree, and let the water that has separated from the solids drain away.

Pumpkin Cream Chiffon

1 9-inch chocolate crumb pie crust

2 cups pumpkin puree
1 cup brown sugar
1 1/2 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp ground ginger
1/2 tsp salt
9 egg yolks
3/4 cup milk
3 1/2 tsp gelatin
1/2 cup water

2 cups whipping cream

1. In a medium sized, heavy bottom sauce pan, combine the pumpkin, brown sugar, cinnamon, ginger and salt. Cook over medium-high heat for 3 to 5 minutes, until the mixture looses some liquid and becomes glossy.

2. While this is cooking, place the water in a small sauce pan and sprinkle the gelatin evenly over it. Let this bloom while you cook the pumpkin.

3. When the pumpkin has cooked enough, transfer it to the bowl of a food processor. Turn the food processor on and let it spin for 2 minutes.

4. With the food processor running, add the milk. When this is blended evenly, scrape the sides of the bowl down and add the eggs. Pulse the food processor just enough to incorporate the eggs, but no more.

5. Return the pumpkin mixture to the stove and cook over a medium heat until the mixture thickens like a custard. When the mixture has thickened, remove from heat and set aside.

6. Place the small pot with the bloomed gelatin over low heat and cook until the gelatin has liquefied. Pour the liquid gelatin into the pumpkin mixture and stir well. Return the pumpkin mixture to the stove and cook over medium heat just enough to thicken the mixture again.

7. Transfer the pumpkin custard to a bowl and place over an icebath. Stir occasionally to ensure it cools evenly and the gelatin doesn't clump. If the gelatin begins to set up too stiffly around the edges, whisk it until it disolves and is redistributed. If it still won't unclump, return the custard to a saucepan and cook over medium low heat until the gelatin melts and start the chilling process again.

8. While the pumpkin custard is chilling, whip the cream to soft peaks.

9. When the pumpkin custard is cool and starting to thicken, whisk 1/3 of the soft peaked cream in. When this is even, fold in half the remaining cream carefully with a spatula until nearly all the white streaks are gone. Add the remaining whipped cream and fold gently until the pumpkin is smooth and even.

10. Transfer the custard to the prepared pie shell and smooth the top. Place plastic directly on the surface and chill the pie for 4 hours, or over night.

Garnish with cinnamon spiced whipped cream and crushed toasted hazelnuts.

Cake Americana

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Fri, 03 Nov 2006 07:08:00 +0000

I don't wave the stars and stripes, or know all the words to the national anthem. My American history is so-so, I can name about 10 presidents, and I stay as far from American politics as I can. I have seen the nations capitol, but don't scowl when I admit I was more interested in the gift shops than D.C herself. Worst of all, I have never been to Disney Land.

But don't write me off as un-American yet. I am as American as apple pie! A daughter of the pioneers, I come from a strong line of women who praised this country and their part of it through food. My deeper sense of Americana best translates through flavor.

Once a country criticized for a lack of cuisine, America is discovering it has more of a legacy of flavor than previously thought. And I, the proud daughter of this land of liberal cuisine, cling to flavors I was raised with. Peanut butter, brownies, milk chocolate, rice crispies, and chocolate pudding all deserve a star on my spangled banner, or better yet, a plate.

My chocolate dessert for the month of November is a tribute to my American childhood. A cake, layered tall, is called the Peanut Butter Chocolate Brownie Crunch Cake. Between two dense layers of fudgy brownie lies another two layers of milk chocolate ganache that sandwich a layer called peanut butter crunch. The peanut butter crunch is a rich combination of peanut butter, chocolate, and rice crispies. A sleek coat of dark chocolate glaze brings this childlike cake into the adult world, dressing it for the table.

As I have known since childhood, the cake does not stand alone (that's the cheese's job). To accompany this cake Americana is another treat from my American childhood, chocolate pudding. A step up from the pudding whose life began granulated, in a small box marked Jell-0, this pudding is made by pouring a warm custard over chocolate. A billow of whipped cream crowns the top and a scattering of caramelized rice crispies creates the final tie.

Edit: the posts just felt naked without a recipe

Peanut Butter Chocolate Brownie Crunch Cake

1 recipe Brownies, baked in a half sheet pan. This must be lined with parchment, and kept chilled until assembly

1 cup chopped salted peanuts for garnish

Milk Chocolate Ganache

1 pound milk chocolate, chopped finely
1 1/2 cups cream

1. Scald the cream and pour it over the chocolate. Stir slowly until the mixture is even. Chill the ganache until it is thick and spreadable.

Peanut Butter Crunch

3 oz milk chocolate
1 cup peanut butter
2 tbsp butter
1 1/2 cups rice crispies

1. Melt the milk chocolate, peanut butter, and butter together. Stir in the rice crispies last minute, just before assembling the cake.

Chocolate Glaze

8 oz chocolate, 64 percent
6 oz butter, cut in cubes
1/4 cup water
2 tbsp corn syrup
1/8 teaspoon salt

1. Place all the ingredients in a large stainless steel bowl and place over simmering double boiler. Heat the ingredients without stirring until 80 percent of the chocolate and butter has melted. Remove from heat and stir until all the ingredients have melted and emulsified.

2. Let the glaze cool on the counter, stirring occasionally until it is thick enough to coat the back of a spoon.

Assembeling the cake

Have ready the milk chocolate ganache, the peanut butter crunch, and the cooled brownie layer. You will need a piece of thick sturdy cardboard big enough to build your cake on, or a cutting board.

1.Unmold the brownie from the pan and cut in half vertically, leaving you 2 pieces of equal size, a top and a bottom for your cake. Place one layer of brownie on the cake board, papery side up.

2. Spread the bottom layer of your cake with half the milk chocolate ganache and chill in the refrigerator for 10 minutes.

3. Spread the all the peanut butter crunch on top of the ganache, and chill in the fridge for 10 minutes.

4. Spread the remaining ganache over the peanut butter crunch. Place the top half of your brownie over the ganache, papery side down. Chill the whole cake for half an hour. When the cake is stable, trim the edges evenly to make sharp corners.

5. While the cake is chilling prepare the chocolate glaze.

6. To glaze the cake place it on a wire rack set over a sheet pan. With the bowl of glaze held about 8 inches above the cake, carefully glaze the four corners first, making sure each corner is covered. Pour the rest of the glaze over the center of the cake in a steady stream. Either spread the glaze towards the sides of the cake with a long cake spatula in 2 or 3 quick motions, or tilt the cake to move the glaze over the edges evenly.

7. Transfer the cake to the cake board and press chopped peanuts along the bottom edge of the cake while the glaze is soft. When you are ready to present the cake, transfer it to a flat cake plate.

November Desserts

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Thu, 02 Nov 2006 08:14:00 +0000

Durring the month of november 25 seattle restaurants participate in a promotion called 25 for 25. Each restaurant prepares a selection of dishes for a multi choice 3 course menu. The price, you guessed it, 25 dollars.

This promotion has caught me off guard, knocked the wind out of me, and caused insomnia in the past. But as I looked at the clock at 3 this afternoon, preparing for the first day of this hectic promotion, I realized I was kind of excited. I had thought, planned, prepped, tweaked, and perfected 4 desserts over the last month in preparation for this day. And when it came time to pull it all together, I was down right giddy.

The following 4 posts will highlight these desserts. I often include recipes so you too can make what is delighting me, but these posts will be void of instruction. My chores this month are comitted to massive reproduction fo these desserts rather than recipe composition.

Enjoy!

Sweet Bay Ice Cream

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Tue, 24 Oct 2006 04:21:00 +0000

As our eyes adjust to the subdued skies, greyed with autumn clouds, and the air nips at the tips of our ears and noses, our appetites begin to crave comforting flavors. Just as we cover our heads and wrap our bodies with warm and cozy, textile layers, we begin to wrap our desserts with comfortable layers of warm spices. Inhaling the aroma of spices like cinnamon, nutmeg, and clove may not offer a radiant heat source, but none the less, it warms us.

My own desire for cinnamon scented warmth tempts me to add varying combinations of these spices to everything I make. Cinnamon dusted pears fill my Basque cake, a vanilla cream filled delight from the French Basque region. A caramelized cinnamon ice cream, made with a Herme technique of toasting sticks of cinnamon under slowly caramelizing sugar sits on the cakes side. An apple strudle carries the traditional "apple pie" flavors of cinnamon, allspice, and ginger. But enough will soon be enough, and I can't spend the entire autumn come winter cloaking my entire menu in these warm spices.

With the temptation to over use these common spices, I have been left to find an alternative, quickly. The question is posed, how can I add warmth to my autumn menu without reaching for these spices? I found an answer in a small, pale leaf called Bay.

This humble leaf, almost forgotten to stews and soups, has ancient roots in glory and prestige. The leaf of the common laurel tree, bay once crowned Greek and roman victors, Olympic athletes, and was given to scholars and poets ceremoniously upon receipt of earned honors. Modern victors now receive recognition through gold medals and oversized checks, and the bay leaf is left to crown small glory in our kitchens.

Too long held captive on the savory side of the kitchen, these green woody leaves have a pleasant, autumnal quality reminesent of tea, magnificent in desserts. Their distinct flavor is familiar to every palate, yet offers an unexpected surprise when featured in dessert. Deep and earthy, the flavor is best presented as a companion to rich, creamy desserts.

Infused into the cream for pumpkin pie, bay offers a elegant alternative to the combination of nutmeg, cinnamon, and clove so familiar that it has it's own container in the spice isle. It is also a beautiful flavoring for a custard like creme brulee or pot-de-creme, creme anglaise, and ice cream.

Sweet Bay Ice Cream

8 to 10 bay leaves
1 cup milk
2 cups cream
1/2 cup sugar
4 large egg yolks

1. Break the bay leaves and place them in a small, heavy bottomed sauce pan. Add the cream and milk, and bring this to a boil. Turn the heat to it's lowest setting, and leave this mixture to infuse for half an hour.

2. After the mixture is appropriately infused, remove from the heat and set aside.

3. Whisk the egg yolks and sugar to a thick ribbon. Slowly temper the cream with the eggs, adding a little bit at a time, whisking well between additions.

4. Return the custard to the sauce pan. Cook this over medium low heat, stirring constantly with a heat proof rubber spatula, until the mixture thickens.

5. Strain the custard into a bowl and chill. This can be done quickly in an ice bath, or overnight in the refrigerator, covered well.

6. Churn in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturers instructions.

Baking blogs on the rise

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Sat, 21 Oct 2006 17:48:00 +0000

It's officially news, although I suspect we have been in on the secret for some time now. Baking blogs are on the rise, following a rise in the popularity of home baking! But as the following article was run in London's newspaper, The Guardian, perhaps this trend has yet to move across the atlantic. Which means you can start the trend right here at home! Be a trend setter, get your cake pans, mixers, and flour covered aprons ready for the new wave of home baking.

There is one fact I must correct, however. It's mentioned that this blog is written by a former pastry chef at The Fat Duck, when in fact, I was a stagiere, or an intern.

By Guardian Unlimited / Blogs 02:07pm

Baking is a popular subject for food
bloggers. Photograph: GettyReports out today reveal home baking is enjoying something of a revival, with sales of flour, dried fruit and cake decorations up 25% and the market expected to grow to £550 million by 2011, writes Bonnie Malkin.

Baking is also proving popular online with a growing community of bloggers posting recipes, advice and proud photos of their creations (as well as the odd flop).

There are beginners, like Ben Bakes a Cake, those that can only be described as experimental bakers, such as Cookie Madness (Guinness Stout Brownies anyone?) and, of course, the more highly refined.

The Pastry Department, a blog by a former Fat Duck pastry chef, fits firmly into the latter category with heavyweight recipes such as caramel macadamia tarts and late summer coffee cake.

Bakingsheet falls somewhere in the middle, and is worth a mention for its super-cute cake names (One Bowl Buttermilk Chocolate Cupcakes, Lime Chiffon Cake, Doubletree Chocolate Chip Cookies, to name but a few) that could not fail to impress even the most cynical visiting mother-in-law.

Then there are the more savoury bloggers, such as the Foppish Baker and his endearingly-named Ugly Breakfast Rolls.

One word of warning, most of these posts are likely to induce strong urges to eat cake - homemade or otherwise.

Autumn Cake

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Sun, 01 Oct 2006 17:06:00 +0000

My bible contains the gospel of Herme, Baluger, Mason, Flemming, and I faithfully worship through the recipes in their books. I sing my hymns with a choir of whirring kitchenaids, the high rhythmic soprano of beeping timers, the constant alto of zipping blenders, and the baritone chugging of churning ice cream machines. My prayers are physical acts beginning with the holy bodies of butter, sugar, flour, and eggs. Sharing recipes is a cornerstone in my church of cuisine. I take so much inspiration from those who spoke the good word before me, no to give back would be a sin.

That said, occasionally a dessert is born in my own kitchen, begat by my own two hands, that tempts me to sin. I delight in it's existence so highly that I think to myself, just this once, I'll keep it. I'll say "Doesn't every hard working pastry chef deserve one cake that no one else can make? One little cake to call my very own?"

This week, a cake that sings praises of Autumn has been my temptress. She has a dark body, bittersweet with chocolate, sweetened only with golden honey. Pears, the fat bodied angels of the season, crown this elusive lady. A dusting of sweet cinnamon finishes the cake before baking, bearing the soul of the chilling season to come.

The first time out of the oven, the kitchen staff crowded around, drawing long nasal breaths in silent prayer, humming quiet songs of praise for Her. Jen, our youngest, said finally with eyes turned upward, "it just soothes my soul".

My love for this child of mine can not be selfish, tempting though it may be. A sinner she will not make of me, and the recipe I leave to you. May it find praise on your own autumn table.

My cake is being served aside a hazelnut ice cream whose richness was tamed by a hint of cocoa powder, and a golden honey sabayon. However, a simple scattering of toasted hazelnuts is highly complimentary to the flavors of the cake.

Autumn Cake

9 oz bittersweet chocolate, chopped small (66%)
2/3 cup cream
3 eggs, separated
1 tbsp cornstarch
60 grams honey (just under 1/4 cup)
3 pears (I am using Bartlett)
1/4 cup powdered sugar
1 tsp cinnamon
toasted and chopped hazelnuts for garnish

1. Preheat the oven to 350 and prepare an 8 inch springform pan by greasing the sides and lining the bottom with parchment. Sift the powdered sugar and cinnamon together and set aside.

2. Peel the pears, halve them and core them. Slice the pears in 1/4 inch slices, keeping only the taller pieces from the center. Alternately, for a more rustic looking cake, cut the cored pear into large chunks. Set aside.

3. Place the chocolate in a large bowl. Scald the cream and pour it over the chocolate. Let this sit for one minute, then stir until even. If the chocolate has not melted completely, continue to melt it over a double boiler or in the microwave on 5 second intervals.

4. With a whisk, mix the cornstarch into the chocolate, avoiding any lumps. When this is mixed in well, whisk in the egg yolks until even.

5. In the bowl of a kitchen aid, place the honey and egg whites, and whip to stiff peaks.

6. With a whisk, fold in 1/3 of the whites to the chocolate mixture until even. Fold the remaining whites into the chocolate with a spatula in 2 additions until even. Transfer the batter to the springform pan and spread evenly.

7. Arrange the pear slices, fat side towards the edge, overlapping in a circular pattern around the outside of the cake. Dust the cake with the cinnamon sugar evenly.

8. Bake the cake for 40 to 50 minutes. Test for doneness by inserting a knife into the center of the cake where the chocolate is left exposed. The knife should come out clean.

9. Let the cake cool to room temperature for at least 3 hours. At this point the cake can be eaten, but I prefer to let it set in the fridge overnight.

A late summer coffee cake

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Wed, 27 Sep 2006 06:48:00 +0000

As I returned from my honeymoon, I started stripping my menu. It had been set the month before with items that could fill my absence from the kitchen. Needless to say, I was ready to move on, quickly, and all at once. The first morning back in the kitchen found me pensive, spinning ideas round and round, trying to find new and exciting ways to present the late summer flavors I was working with.

A delivery of wine broke me from deep thought, and I began discussing the Erik's own baking adventures of the week. As he was leaving, he made the offhanded comment, "It's funny, I always pick the most challenging recipe in the book, just to see if I can do it, and people like it. But when I make the simplest thing, like a coffee cake, everyone raves about it all night."

Back to my own menu, it became clear. I could over think, over work, and over do the new menu items, but a simple coffee cake was the answer.

Simply called a late summer coffee cake, this rich, dense cake takes its seasonal name from a medley of fruits baked on top. Huckleberries, plums, and nectarines crowd the top bursting with the seasons last bright colors and flavors. A streusell of brown sugar and cinnamon baked on the fruit hints at the autumn just weeks away. I am serving it warm, with caramelized cinnamon icecream, but a simple vanilla would be heaven.

While you stroll the late season farmers markets, tempted by summers lingering jewels, remember this coffee cake. Don't feel limited by my own choices in fruits, rather let your own tastes or availability dictate. And feel free to include as many or as few fruits as you like. Have the fruits and the streusell ready before you begin mixing the cake. The batter shouldn't wait while you prepare the two.

For the fruits

1/4 cup sugar
1/2 tsp cinnamon
2 nectarines
4 plums
1 cup huckleberries

1. Slice the fruits into desired sized pieces. I quarter the plums and cut the nectarines in 8 pieces.

2. Mix the cinnamon and sugar and toss the fruit to coat.

For the streusell

1/3 cup flour
1/4 cup brown sugar
1/4 tsp salt
1/4 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp cinnamon
2 tbsp butter

1. In a medium sized bowl, mix together the flour, sugar, salt, baking powder, and cinnamon well.

2. Add the butter and break it up with your fingers or a pastry blender, making sure it gets tossed with the flour mixture constantly. Continue breaking up the butter, cutting it in, until it becomes very small and the mixture looks like a coarse meal.

For the Cake
1 1/2 cups flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
2 eggs separated
1/2 cup butter, at room temperature
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 cup sour cream
1/2 cup milk

A 9 inch round or 8 inch square baking pan greased and lined with parchment.

1. Sift the flour, baking powder, and salt together, and set aside.

2. Place the whites in a large, very clean bowl and set aside with a very clean whisk.

3. Cream the butter and sugar for 3 minutes until it becomes light and fluffy. Add the 2 yolks and continue creaming for 1 minute. Add the sour cream and mix until incorporated.

4. Add the flour in 3 additions, alternating with the milk. Mix on low speed careful not to over mix. This will make a thick batter.

5. Whip the whites to stiff peaks. Transfer the tight batter to the bowl with the whites and carefully fold the two together.

6. Spread the batter in the prepared pan. Cover with sliced fruit and berries, then sprinkle with streusell. Bake in a 350 degree oven for 40 to 50 minutes. The juices from the fruits should begin to bubble, and the cake should spring back when touched.

4.

An Inspired Caramel Macadamia Tart

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Sun, 17 Sep 2006 16:50:00 +0000

Great inspiration can be drawn from outstanding dining experiences. An unforgettable dessert creates an indelible mark on the senses and their memory. Beyond just memories, a spark is created, which later ignites the creative fires. A burning desire to pay tribute and recreate a special dish rages within, which nothing can extinguish but success. Much amazing cuisine has been born of this muse, the perfect dish.

However, Claudia Flemming points out in her book The Last Course that it is not only in gratifying experiences that inspiration is born. A disappointing experience too can send a cook to the fire, not to recreate, but to make it right. For Flemming, an outstanding sweet corn icecream was born of a disappointing experience in the Southwest. For me, an unfortunate caramel Macadamia tart in Durango, CO has been fueling my creative fire.

The offending tart had spent an evening or two on the dessert cart that arrived at the end of the meal. The Macadamia nuts for which the tart was named were coated in plenty of caramel, but being undertoasted their flavor was completely lost. Wrapped top and bottom, tart was encased in a thick layer of underbaked pastry. Not even a coat of chocolate could hide the bitter taste of raw flour.

With Macadamia and caramel being such a natural pair, my only problem was finding a place to begin.

I started by eliminating the top crust altogether, and removing the caramel coated Macadamia nuts from the inside of the tart shell. In their place sits a lightly whipped white chocolate coconut ganache. The caramel covered Macadamia nuts are returned to the tart, crowning the top. The two are kept separate until ready to serve, when the nuts are placed on top giving the caramel has just enough time to lazily drip down the sides before being placed on the table. Bittersweet balance is found in a spoonful of dark chocolate whipped cream served along side.

Use a tart shell of your choice, even a crumb crust would pair well with these flavors (just make sure to freeze it before adding the thick filling.) Take note that the ganache gains much of it's flavor from sitting in the fridge overnight, and the caramel coated nuts must cool on the counter for a few hours. This tart takes a little planning, but is well worth the time.

White chocolate coconut tart
with caramel coated Macadamia nuts

1 prebaked 9 inch tart shell

For the white chocolate filling
1 1/2 cup cream
1 1/2 cup dried shredded coconut
1 pound white chocolate, finely chopped

1. In a small saucepan combine the cream and the coconut and bring to a boil. Remove from heat and let this mixture steep for half an hour.

2. Place the white chocolate in a large bowl. Rewarm the coconut cream and pour over the white chocolate, allowing this to sit for 1 minute.

3. Stir the ganache until the mixture is even and all the chocolate is melted.

4. Pour the warm ganache into a container, pressing plastic wrap directly on the surface, and let this set in the refrigerator overnight.

5. Bring the ganache out of the fridge for an hour to come up near room temperature. The ganache should not be very cold and feel softer. Place the ganache in the bowl of your kitchen aid, and with the paddle attachment, beat the ganache on speed 4 for about a minute. It should lighten in color.

6. Working quickly spread the ganache in the tart shell. Cover with plastic wrap and let set in the refrigerator for an hour before cutting.

For the caramel Macadamia nuts
3 cups Macadamia nuts
1 cup sugar
1/4 cup water
1/2 tsp kosher salt
2 cups cream

1. Toast the Macadamia nuts in a preheated 350 degree oven for 12 to 15 minutes, until they begin to take on a golden hue. Set aside to cool.

2. Place the cream and salt in a small saucepan, bring to a simmer, and keep warm while the caramel is cooking.

3. In a small bowl stir the sugar and water until the sugar is moist. Transfer this to a small saucepan and cook over medium high heat, washing down the sides of the pan with a moist pastry brush to remove any crystallized sugar. When the sugar has turned caramel colored, add the cream, a bit at a time, carefully stirring to incorporate after each addition. Be aware this will splatter a bit.

4. In a large heat proof bowl combine the Macadamia nuts and the hot caramel. Stir the two, and set aside on the counter to cool slowly. Continue stirring the mixture every 20 minutes until the caramel has come down to room temperature.

For the chocolate whipped cream

6 oz. bittersweet chocolate, chopped fine
3 cups cream
1/4 cup sugar

1. Bring the cream and sugar to a boil.

2. Stir in the finely chopped chocolate, and cook over medium heat until the chocolate has been combined completely.

3. Strain into a container and chill in the refrigerator for 6 hours, or overnight.

4. Whip the cold chocolate cream to desired stiffness.

You can present the tart with the Macadamia nuts on top, or in a pretty bowl set aside a bowl of the chocolate cream

Coming back.....

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Sat, 16 Sep 2006 16:50:00 +0000

For those that check this blog regularly, even randomly, you will surely have noticed a lack of new entries this past 6 weeks. Being confronted by the same pictures of hot fudge, you may have thought I'd given up, my blog left to collect cyberdust. Quite the contrary, this blog is a constant thought, just tucked quietly away behind the excitement of my wedding and honeymoon.

But I'm back, basking in the glow of my new marriage, and stripping my menu clean. While I finish fine tuning the menu's transition from summer to autumn, I will be keeping this blog in the front of my mind. Stay tuned.....

Hot Weather, Hot Fudge

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Wed, 09 Aug 2006 17:05:00 +0000

Hot sunlight spills in across the kitchen, shining bright on baskets of peaches, nectarines, and plums it helped nurture. Hiding in the shadows cast across the counters are dark blackberries and blueberries, eagerly waiting with a tasty secret they are bursting to tell. All will take starring roles in my desserts, shining as bright as the summer sun they grew in. But surprisingly not one of these fruits will take the lead in my cast of summer flavors.

While it may be the height of fruit season, it's my chocolate dessert that diners are choosing most often. They scan the menu, passing by the Noyaux bavarian, a light, white island in a sea of vibrant apricot coulis. They scroll down, passing the profiteroles filled with bright lemon ice cream that peak from a cascade of strawberries, raspberries, blueberries, and blackberries. They glance at the Buttermilk panna cotta served aside tree-ripe peaches and nectarines, bathed in syrah, move to the moist sour cream pound cake that towers over a thick blackberry compote and a scoop of brown sugar ice cream, and think, "I'm in the mood for chocolate!"

The chocolate dish does have it's place on a summer menu. Dripping with childlike fun, the chocolate is presented 3 ways in an ice cream cake. 3 layers of devils food cake sandwiches milk chocolate malted ice cream and caramel. To throw this over the top, the cake is smothered in a dose of hot fudge. A sprinkling of caramelized rice crispies crowns the top, an adult rice crispy "treat."

"These people are crazy!" I declare, stirring the large batch of hot fudge I make daily to keep up with demand. "It's the height of fruit season and all they want is chocolate!" I say as I pour the warm cocoa syrup into a container. "I have no idea what's wrong with them!" I mutter as I begin to lick the spatula I used to stir the hot fudge. "People!" You can barely hear me say as I spend the next 2 minutes using the spatula to transfer the last bits of hot fudge from the pot into my mouth. As I stare at the empty pot, my lips stained brown with chocolate, I think, "Maybe they are on to something."

Hot Fudge

1 cup cocoa powder
1 cup granulated sugar
1 1/2 cups heavy cream
4 tbsp unsalted butter
1/2 tsp kosher salt

1. Sift the cocoa powder into a medium mixing bowl. Add the sugar and stir with a whisk to combine.

2. Place the cream in a medium sauce pan and bring to a boil.

3. Pour 1/2 of the hot cream into the cocoa mixture and whisk until mostly combined. Add half the remaining cream and whisk until combined, and repeat with the remainder of the cream.

4. Return the cocoa mixture to the medium sauce pan and add the butter and salt. Stir this over medium heat until the butter melts and the mixture is thick and even. Never let this mixture boil, as the cocoa powder will burn very easily.

This can be stored in the fridge and rewarmed when needed.

Serve warm, over ice cream, or pound cake, or chocolate cake!

Chikalicious

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Fri, 04 Aug 2006 00:03:00 +0000

I first heard the name Chikalicious in passing a few years ago. It was just opening, and I was in the vicinity of a conversation discussing a restaurant who's counter seating would wrap around the chef's work space, much like a sushi bar. Interesting, but it was what this restaurant would serve that had my ears straining for more information. Chikalicious is a restaurant serving only desserts, the first that I had heard of.

I was, am, fascinated with the idea of high end, creative plated desserts taking center stage. A place meant to provide an unforgettable dessert experience without the trappings of a 2 hour multi course meal in a high end restaurant.

Since then the name has picked up momentum, and Chika the chef has been gaining a strong reputation. While I have yet to visit New York City and Chikalicious itself, I was thrilled to find this video, a window into an experience I can't wait to have myself! Enjoy.

Perfecting Puree's

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Sat, 29 Jul 2006 00:24:00 +0000

Like myself, you fellow dessert makers have no doubt found yourselves, at one time or another, pureeing berries such as a strawberry, or perhaps a raspberry. A simple task, requiring you to throw the berries in a blender, perhaps with some sugar, spin and strain. Often finding myself pureeing some berry or another, but not settled with random results, or just what ever comes out of the blender cup, I have worked on a few additional steps to ensure certain results. Could I let a puree be simple? Of course not.

The little alterations to the aforementioned process, simple in and of themselves, result in a puree that is thicker, brighter, and more luxurious.

First, because I have flats of berries passing through my hands, I choose only those that are ripe ripe ripe. Often these berries are so ripe that they don't look pretty enough to serve. The ripest berries have the sweetest flavor and are perfect for puree's. Don't feel that you need to let your berries get over-ripe, however. If they are ripe enough to eat, then they are ripe enough to puree.

Second, after washing, I freeze them. Spread in a single layer on a sheet pan, the berries are left to freeze solid, then gathered and stored overnight in a container with a tight, protective seal.

Third, when defrosting them, I transfer them strait from the freezer into a bowl, and toss them with a little sugar. When they are defrosted most of the way, but the temperature is still near freezing, I puree them. The puree is strained through a fine mesh strainer to remove all the seeds.

After the straining, the puree is super thick and luscious, and the color is as bright as can be. The puree stands up tall on a plate, working perfectly as a sauce. The thicker puree folds into recipes better, covers desserts better as it both sticks to them without running off, and is easier to pick up with your spoon making for a very happy mouth.

It is often enough to simply know a process works. I have followed these steps many times, observing successful results, and can enter this endeavor with confidence that I will achieve these results every time. But could I let it be that simple? Of course not.

I have to ask "why?"

When I ask why, I go to two places. First, Harold McGee. Well, not him, per se, but his book.

Then, when I find what I can from Harold, I ask my friend Chris Young. Chris is the research assistant to Heston Blumenthal, and runs his "Atomic Kitchen" or laboratory and the intense study of gastronomy that goes on inside. I often post him questions like, "Why does Elderflower taste so familiar to everyone, yet like nothing they have ever tasted?"

Or "Why does freezing my berries make such a huge impact on the resulting thickness, color, and flavor?" The answer is simpler than I thought. Ice.

The information I found in On Food and Cooking discussed the damages ice crystals cause on vegetable matter when frozen, and how to avoid this. Because I am not avoiding this process, rather using it to my advantage, I went to Chris.

Anyone who has placed liquid in the freezer is aware that it expands. Thus, when we freeze our berries, the water molecules inside the cells expand. The sharp crystals of ice damage the cell walls of the fruit, causing for a better extraction of liquid, carrying both pigment and aroma molecules (Remember that flavor is made of 5 tastes on our tongue, and about a billion aromas in our nasal receptors).

So freezing makes for more release of liquid. Logically, more liquid would seem to make a runnier, thinner puree. But not so. What this process also does is break down the cell walls themselves. When the blade of the blender tears apart the cells, breaking them open to extract the liquid, it also breaks some of the cell wall down into particles small enough to remain in the puree. The damage from the ice allows for more of the cell wall to break down and become part of the puree. Made from carbohydrates, the particles of cell wall will act to thicken the puree.

Finally, the freezing temperatures slow the enzymes that naturally deteriorate the bright hues of berries. Pureeing the fruit while still icy cold slows these enzymes from discoloring your fruit while the pigments are released.

Come out and play

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Fri, 21 Jul 2006 15:31:00 +0000

Rather than write about what I have done this summer after the fact, I thought I'd open up my schedule with my few but faithful readers and give them a chance to participate in some of the fun things I am doing this summer!

July 23rd- At noon I can be found on the street in front of the Pike Place Market. In a stall at the farmers market held outside, I will be demonstrating some delicious ways to use Raspberries. I will be giving tips on making puree's thicker and brighter, demonstrating the recipe for an easy Raspberry mousse, and talking about all the delicious ways to incorporate raspberries into desserts.

July 23rd- At 5 pm I am teaching a class at Cooks World about summer fruit desserts. Filled with professional tips, I will share with you all the all the nitty gritty details of what I do, however tedious they may seem. By nature, fruit makes for quick to prepare desserts, particularly in the summer when they are so ripe and delicious you want to eat them out of hand. We will make a frozen wild flower honey mousse which can be paired with many summer fruits, the easy raspberry mousse, and a few more recipes to be decided. There is still room in the class if you are interested, you can reserve a spot on the cooks world web site.

July 31st- At Eva Restaurant, we have been very honored to host an event celebrating Emily Luchetti and her newest book, A Passion For Ice Creams. The event is organized through Books and Cooks, a wonderful program that pairs authors with chefs for these events. I will be preparing a selection of treats from her book for you to enjoy while you get a chance to meet Emily Luchetti. This event is billed, "an ice cream social for adults" and will include a selection of 5 frozen treats, some ice cream, and a little champagne. The cost is 36 dollars per person, and the books will be for sale ready to be signed and cherished.

Those pastry hounds should be familiar with Emily Luchetti's books, and if you are lucky enough to live in San Francisco, her desserts themselves. She is an amazing pastry chef with a down to earth yet elegant style. I have worked with her books for some time now, and getting the chance to meet her and prepare her desserts for her is truly an honor.

Again, there are still spaces open. To make a reservation, call Eva Restaurant at 206-633-3538 and ask to make a reservation for the Emily Luchetti Ice Cream Social. The seating is at 7:30 pm, but come early and mingle, the bar will be open and some little bites will be passed to nibble on.

August 12th- At the Columbia City farmers Market Amy McCray, the chef at Eva along with me (her trusty pastry side kick) will be competing in a Ready, Set, Cook competition. We will have a little time to scour the market for ingredients, then will set to work. We go head to head with the Julie Anders, the chef of La Medusa in Columbia City. The competition begins at 11:00 am, so while you are out supporting our local farmers and indulging in some of the most beautiful produce, honey, fruits, and such, stop by and watch!

August 20th- An Incredible Feast- This super fun event held to benefit the local Farmers Market foundation, run by local Seattle legend Tamara Murphy, is a celebration of local farmers and chefs. Each participating farmer is paired with a chef, who creates a small bite centered around the farmers specialty. Over 20 of Seattle's favorite chef's participate, showing off their talents. This year Amy is making barbecue, which will be served with a little slaw, on top of a buttermilk biscuit made by yours truly. For the 50 dollar admission you get the chance to nibble on tons of great food, the knowledge that you are supporting and celebrating your local farmers, and a book including all the great recipes you'll taste. Information on purchasing tickets can be found here.

August 26th- I will be participating in a wedding. I am pleased to say I am the Bride, marrying the sweetest, most handsome man alive, Russell Cree. We are holding the event on his parents property in Oregon. The ceremony will be held on the banks of Rock Creek, with a reception to follow in the Cree's back yard. The biggest question I hear is, "who is going to make YOUR wedding cake?!" Well, me of course! I plan on one single white cake, old fashioned coconut layer cake with fluffy white icing, and a big table filled with all sorts of other cakes, pies, tarts, brownies, cobblers, buckles, and other down home desserts. Following this big day is a honeymoon road trip through the Grand Ganyon, through Sedona, to Flagstaff Arizona, and back up the coast.

An Ice cream social for grown-ups

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Wed, 19 Jul 2006 20:59:00 +0000

A blurb in the Seattle PI today announced an ice cream social we are hosting at Eva.

Ice cream stars

One name you probably know, one name we bet you're going to know better in years to come. Emily Luchetti, former pastry chef for Stars restaurant and a James Beard award winner, will team up for an "ice cream social" at 7:30 p.m. July 31 with Dana Bickford, talented pastry chef at Eva Restaurant & Wine Bar (2227 N. 56th St.). Bickford, an alumna of Lampreia and England's Fat Duck, will be preparing recipes from Luchetti's book, "A Passion for Ice Cream," in this Cooks and Books event. Luchetti, currently pastry chef at San Francisco's Farallon restaurant, will sign books and talk food. Cost is $36, not including tax and tip. Reservations required; call 206-633-3538.

I am very excited as Emily Luchetti is one who's 4 books I pour over hoping to absorb a bit of her down to earth, elegant, and nostalgic dessert style.

While the entire menu isn't set quite yet, I am planning on an Amuse Sucre of petite lemon ice cream and gingersnap sandwiches, and miniature chocolate cupcakes stuffed with pistachio ice cream. Plated courses will include, but are not limited to a frozen creme caramel, a peach "stuffed" with blackberry granita, and a dessert called Cho Cho Cho, (short for chocolate) that should send you home in a chocolate induced haze.

The book, which is a summer dessert must, will be for sale with the chance to chat with Emily Luchetti and have the booked signed.

Tall Poppy

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Sun, 16 Jul 2006 03:17:00 +0000

A friend with a true passion for life has finally taken the time to set up a blog. Traca, the gal who writes the blog tells a little about herself, and how she spends her days. I have been amazed with the richness she fills her life with and her truly beautiful outlook on life. Her magnetic personality and generosity with friendship draws almost everybody she meets in.

Her blog will reflect much of her culinary musings, reviews of cooking classes she frequents around the city, exciting restaurant events she helps organize and attends, a bit about Union, the restaurant she works with, and reflections on her outlook on life and travels in general.

Her writing, like all she shares with the people she meets, is personal and inviting. On occasion, she'll share a recipe or two from the amazing collection she is amassing.

Her blog is titled "Seattle Tall Poppy". A tall poppy is the way the Australians liken an eager achiever to a bright flower, reaching towards the sun. And a Tall Poppy Traca is.

Frozen Honey Mousse

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Wed, 05 Jul 2006 16:47:00 +0000

Mixed in amongst the stalls at the farmers markets, spilling with summers bounty you're bound to see someone selling honey. This sweet syrup can be found the day the market opens when fruits are still clinging to their trees and vegetables are hiding underground. When the market finally closes in December, honey will be there amongst the squashes, hazelnuts, and kale. This constant staple is my rock. I may never know if the strawberries are quite ripe, but I know honey will be there. When I tire of squashes and pumpkins, I know I can fall back on honey.

It is not only during times of fruit famine that I reach for jars of honey. The byproduct of a bees busy work of pollenating our fruit bearing plants, honey is the perfect foil for the fruits themselves.

With the days growing hotter and the fruit getting riper, I am using honey to make a frozen dessert. Easier than ice cream, this frozen wild flower honey mousse is a delicious cold treat for a hot day, and a great companion for summers fruits. I have covered it with raspberries, strawberries, sometimes tossed in black pepper, cherries confited with their pits, roasted apricots, the list goes on.

This dessert has a stunning purity of flavor, who's secret lies in the inclusion of just 4 ingredients. Because it must set in the freezer for a minimum of 8 hours, preferably over night, it becomes the perfect do-ahead dessert for entertaining. Thanks to honeys versatility and humble sophistication, you will find this an appropriate dessert year round, served on the patio or in a formal dining room.

This mousse can be prepared in a loaf pan or terrine mold to slice servings off of, or in individual molds. I am using a wild flower honey gathered from the Tahuya river apiaries on the Olympic peninsula right now. Seeking out an excellent honey makes all the difference as this recipe highlights every aspect, or flaw, of the honey you choose. The use of vanilla bean rather than extract also makes a huge difference in this recipe, so seek them out. However, if you are to go without, be a miser with the vanilla extract, adding only a few drops.

Frozen Honey Mousse

4 oz honey (just over 1/3 cup)
2 egg yolks
1/2 a vanilla bean, seeded
1 1/2 cups cream, kept cold to whip

1. Prepare a loaf pan or individual molds. A loaf pan can be wetted with a damp rag and lined with plastic wrap or foil for ease in later removal, but individual molds will need to be dipped in hot water and the edges run with a paring knife to remove the smaller servings.

2. Place the honey, yolks, and vanilla seeds in a metal bowl large enough to fit over a pot of simmering water. Whisking constantly, cook this mixture over the simmering double boiler until the mixture is thick and pale, and has at least doubled in volume. This takes about 5 minutes. You will know the mixture is done when a stream drizzled back into the bowl holds a little mound rather than disappearing into the mass.

3. Set this mixture aside on the counter to come down to room temperature.

4. In the meantime, whip the cream to soft, thick peaks. Keep cold until the honey mixture has come down to room temperature. If the cream is added when the honey mixture is still warm, it will melt into the mixture rather than fold in.

5. When the honey mixture is room temperature, fold a third of the whipped cream in. When this is incorporated fold in the remaining cream.

6. Pour the mousse into the prepared pan or molds, cover with plastic wrap, and store in the freezer for at least 8 hours or overnight.

Strawberry shortcake

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Mon, 26 Jun 2006 18:12:00 +0000

There are dessert that every American palate is familiar with. Desserts like apple and pumpkin pie, s'mores, chocolate chip cookies, and my favorite, strawberry shortcake. Through holiday tradition, public schools, shared cultural history, community potlucks, backyard picnic's, boy/girl scouts, etc... a familiarity with these treats has been ingrained in every Americans memories. Have you never tasted these desserts, invariably you will still recognize them, understand them, and be able to describe them. This gives them an incredible power over the American diner. The power of Nostalgia.

I have, along with others, written enough on the emotional trigger nostalgia has on a diner, and the joy and depth it brings to a dish, that I will spare you the philosophical rant. Rather, this post was meant to describe the joys of my favorite dish of nostalgia, Strawberry Shortcake.

At it's worst, this dish is a store-bought cake of some sort, a indented disk of sticky sponge, a rough scone bordering on hard tack, or perhaps a biscuit that originated in a cardboard tube in the cold isle, smothered with whipping cream squirted from a can, or scooped from a tub of cool-whip, and topped with frozen berries in syrup. No doubt we have all tasted version, and still found it palatable. Which means that when this dessert is made at it's best, it can be immensely delightful.

At it's best, this dessert is made from berries just hours out of the field. The cake or biscuits, the shortcake so to speak, should be tender and soft, and flavorfull enough to be eaten unadorned. The cream should be fresh, real cream, sweetened as you like it, perhaps with a hint of vanilla. When I make variations on the shortcake, sometimes I use different fruit, as I did recently with a warm rhubarb compote, and I often replace the cream with ice cream, or as I am currently doing, a seductive lemon cream.

The shortcake on my menu currently reads, "Local Strawberries with warm buttermilk biscuits and lemon cream".

Armed with a buttermilk biscuit recipe from Thomas Keller, I begin the shortcake. The biscuits are served just warm, and are very tender and flaky. They are broken in half, and filled with Pierre Herme's lemon cream, rather than whipping cream. Here my labor ends. I choose fragrant ripe strawberries who's flavor is unparalleled by anything I could humanly produce. They are sliced in half and dusted with granulated sugar for a glossy coat. Scattered across the top of the biscuits, the bright red berries sit in beautiful contrast to the buttery yellow of the lemon cream and the pale biscuit.

While this dish has enough flavor to be memorable on it's own, it's the nostalgic power that makes me smile when I eat this. I am transported back to summer days picking berries with my grandma Eva. A child with a stained face, my grandma teased that they should weigh me before and after I entered the U-Pick field and charge us for the pounds I consumed on the job. Once home, we processed massive amounts of berries into a years supply of jam, and rewarded our hard work with bowls of strawberry shortcake.

Buttermilk Biscuits
Adapted from Thomas Keller

Preheat the oven to 500

3 cups flour
1/4 cup sugar
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp baking powder
1 stick cold butter, cut in 1/2 inch cubes
1 1/4 cup buttermilk

1. Combine the flour, sugar, baking soda, and salt in a large bowl. Use a whisk to mix or "sift" the ingredients evenly.

2. Toss the cubes of cold butter into the flour, and begin breaking them up by pinching the butter between your thumb and fingers. I use a motion that creates petals of butter. With my palms up, the butter is pressed into the tips of my fingers with my thumb, pressing in a forward motion from my ring finger towards my index finger. Continue to do this until the butter is broken up well, and the mixture becomes coarse. Much like cutting butter into flour for a pie crust.

3. Create a well in the center of the flour mixture, and add the buttermilk. With one hand, working swiftly, stir the flour and buttermilk together. The mixture should become a moist shaggy mess, not a solid clump of sticky dough. If the dough is too wet, toss in a bit of flour. Like wise, if the dough is dry, add a tsp of buttermilk.

4. Turn the shaggy mess out onto a lightly floured surface. Gather up the mass, and press it together. Kneed this mass 5 times, folding the dough over itself like a book each time.

5. Let the dough rest for 15 minutes. I use the same bowl I mixed it in, flouring the bottom, and flattening the dough about 3 inches thick. The surface is lightly floured and covered with plastic wrap to discourage the dough from drying.

6. Roll or press the dough to a thickness of 1 and a half inches, and cut with a 2 inch round biscuit cutter. Arrange them on a parchment lined sheet pan and bake for 8 minutes. They should be barely colored on the top, and just baked in the middle. If you are unsure, break one open. Bake for another 2 minutes if they seem undercooked, but not much longer.

If you cut the biscuits any larger than the suggested 2 inches, try lowering the heat to 450. They will need a longer baking time to cook the centers, and I have found the bottoms will burn from prolonged exposure to the 500 degree sheetpan. You can also bake them on two sheetpans stacked on top of eachother (double-panning) if you have an extra one lying around.

Lemon Cream
Pierre Herme

1 cup sugar
Zest of 3 lemons
4 eggs
¾ cup lemon juice (about 6 large lemons)
10 oz butter

1. Prepare a large stainless steel bowl to fit over a pot of simmering water as a doubleboiler. Cutt the butter up into cubes, and set aside to soften to room temperature.

2. Break up the lemon zest by mixing it with the sugar until even.

3. In the large bowl, whisk the lemon sugar into eggs and add lemon juice. Whisk this mixture aggressively over the simmering double boiler until frothy, thick, and the temperature reaches 180, as you would a sabayon. The mixture will begin to leave tracks, and the texture will become tighter. This takes up to 5 minutes. If this stage isn't cooked long enough, your end product will be runny. (yet delicious). You will know it's cooked if a ribbon of the mixture dripped back into the bowl holds a tiny mound for a second rather than dissapearing.

4. Strain the lemon sabayon into a blender cup and let cool to about 140, stirring occasionally. This takes about 5 minutes if the room is cold, 10 of the room is hot.

5. Turn on the blender and begin adding the butter 1 piece at a time, allowing 3 seconds between additions.Blend for 5 minutes, and transfer to a storage container. Cover the surface with plastic wrap and chill for 4 hours, until cold and set.

Tis the Season

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Sun, 25 Jun 2006 14:34:00 +0000

A year ago today, I was sitting on a airplane delivering my home from England. Returning from the greatest adventure of my life, I was preparing to take my first job as a pastry chef. I started work on a Tuesday, jet lagged and disoriented. Upon arrival to the restaurant the next day, I was introduced to a cornucopia of fruits, waiting for me to begin. Blame it on this disorientation, but I made the mistake of thinking the abundance of fruit I stumbled into at Eva was normal. Far from the truth, I was being spoiled.

This year, as April rolled around, I was getting desperate. I longed for something fresh, ANYTHING fresh. Memories of last years boxes, bursting at the seams with ripe, fragrant fruit was tormenting me. Finally, local Rhubarb came around. It held me over until the first little strawberries blushed red this month.

As I began my work day yesterday, I smiled ear to ear when I saw a huge crate spilling over with Yakima cherries. After all that waiting, all that anticipation, it was finally here. The short 3 months when we have so much fruit it's hard to keep up.

Racheal and Peter, a local couple that picks strawberries on a friends property in Carnation made their first visit last week. The berries she picks are always perfect, sweet with musky ripeness, and strikingly petite. These little darling berries are participating in 3 desserts this week.

First they rest atop tender flaky buttermilk biscuits, that have been filled with lemon cream. Next they are seen dressed in black pepper scattered across a frozen wildflower honey mousse with streaks of balsamic drizzled over. Finally, they are pureed and folded with whipped cream and creme fraiche, my take on a Strawberry Fool. This mousse like pud' is served in a tiny bowl next to both a warm chocolate mousse and a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream, thus adapting the delightful flavor combination of Neapolitan ice cream.

The Cherries made their first appearance this weekend as a clafoutie, baked under a light batter and served with a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream. Rhubarb is lingering, a soup made from rhubarb and fresh orange surrounds a light vanilla bean bavarian crowned with crisp tart half moons of the stalk, candied in syrup.

The true challenge comes when cases of apricots, peaches, nectarines, and plums begin to arrive, stacking up aside flats of strawberries, blackberries, and raspberries all begging to be used promptly. Just the situation I stumbled into last year, blind to my good fortune. Nothing is to be taken for granted this year, fruit will be preserved for scarcer days, and I will relish these few months when I am spoiled rotten with fruit.

My Strawberry Fool

1 1/4 cup strawberry puree, sweetened to taste- kept cold
1/4 tsp kirsch or raspberry liquor
1 cup creme fraiche
1 cup cream
1/4 cup granulated sugar

1. Combine the creme fraiche and cream in a large bowl. Sprinkle the granulated sugar over the top and whisk slowly until semi-stiff, glossy peaks form. I accomplish this by whisking the creams by hand. The slower introduction of air into the cream makes a denser, tighter whipped product. If you are using a kitchen aid, chill the bowl and whisk, and do not turn the mixer up past speed 6.

2. Using a whisk, fold half of the chilled puree into the cream. When the puree is just incorporated, add the second half and the kirsch or raspberry liquor. Fold until the mixture is of even color.

3. Spoon into individual serving dishes and chill for 4 hours before serving. Garnish with more strawberry puree, or sliced berries.

Notes: It is very important that all your ingredients are properly chilled.

If you sprinkle sugar over your whole berries and let them sit for an hour before you puree them, you will achieve a brighter red puree

Butterscotch Pudding

noreply@blogger.com (Dana) — Sat, 27 May 2006 00:08:00 +0000

We all have our weaknesses. Those singular foods that break our will, reducing us to acts of unsightly behavior; licking bowls, scraping restaurant plates with fingers for every last drop of flavor, or out right gluttony. Being a pastry chef, you might think I am often brought to my knees by all that surrounds me. On the contrary, rarely does a dessert break me.

Rarely, remember, is not never, and once in a while I too am reduced to eyebrow-raising behavior by a dessert. Currently, a butterscotch pudding has me on my knees. It's not surprising to find me with a pot, coated with the remains of pudding cooked minutes before in one hand, a spatula in the other working every bit of the warm heaven into my mouth.

Because the pudding is on my menu, I find myself in this compromising position at least 3 times a week. Due to it's ease in preparation, I find myself preparing and falling prey to this pudding nearly every weekend. I have carried it to friends houses, picnic's, and dinners parties. Sometimes I bring banana's to caramelize and nest on top, sometimes just clouds of billowy whipping cream. Adorned or not, I find this pudding manages to break a few others who are caught searching for the serving bowl in hopes licking it clean.

Note that the use of dark brown sugar is important for achieving a truly rich flavor. Light brown sugar will make a butterscotch pudding, and if you are in a pinch, use it. But do seek out the dark brown sugar, the flavor will reward you.

Butterscotch Pudding

4 tbsp butter
1 cup dark brown sugar
1 1/2 tsp kosher salt
1 cup cream
2 cups milk
2 tbsp scotch, brandy, or whisky
1 tsp vanilla
2 eggs
3 tbsp corn starch

1. In a large saucepan, melt the butter over the lowest heat. Do not let the butter sizzle and separate. If this happens, discard it and get new butter.

2. Add the brown sugar and salt, and stir into the butter. Turn the heat up to medium and cook the sugar until it begins to bubble, 3 to 5 minutes, stirring occasionally to avoid scorching. When the bubbling begins, stir and let it bubble for about 30 seconds.

3. Add the cream in small additions, stirring between each. When all the cream is incorporated, add the milk, scotch, and vanilla all at once. Stir to combine and set aside.

4. Whisk the eggs and cornstarch until even. I find that the cornstarch will be lumpy at first, but if you whisk it a first time while the brown sugar is caramelizing, then come back and re-whisk it after the milk is incorporated, the liquid in the eggs will soften the lumps and they distribute evenly.

5. Whisk 1 cup of the warm butterscotch cream into the starchy eggs until evenly combined. Return this to the sauce pan of butterscotch cream, whisking to combine.

6. Begin cooking the pudding over medium to medium high heat, stirring all the while with a whisk. The mixture will begin to thicken after 3 to 5 minutes. Continue whisking constantly, watching for the first signs of bubbling. When the mixture just begins to bubble, reduce the heat to low and set a timer for 2 minutes. (if you are using an electric range, have a second burner preheated to a low setting) Stir the pudding over the low heat for 2 minutes.

7. Remove from heat, and immediately pour into a bowl to stop the hot pan from further cooking the pudding. Place plastic wrap directly on the surface to avoid a skin forming and let cool at room temp for an hour, then place in the fridge. Alternately, divide the hot pudding up between individual cups and let a skin form. I have to admit, I like a little skin, as it is a defining characteristic of home cooked pudding to me!